by Laura Landon
Millie laughed. “Perfect, Robbie. Your monster sounds like a Pinky.”
“Do you think so, Millie?”
“Yes. Now close your eyes and tell Pinky to get some sleep. It will be time to get up before he knows it.”
Robbie yawned, then lifted his chin and looked at her. “I love you, Millie. More than anybody.”
Robbie’s face swam before her. “And I love you, Robbie. More than anybody.”
Robbie’s eyes drifted shut and he relaxed against her. He fell asleep a few minutes later with a peaceful expression on his face.
She brushed a wisp of dark hair from his forehead and held him to her. Tears of joy and happiness ran down her face. He was hers, and she would never let anyone take him away from her.
Especially his father.
. . . . .
Millie woke when she heard someone enter the room. It took her a moment or two to collect her senses, and when she did, her eyes focused on the last person she expected to see. The last person she wanted to see.
Roarke walked into the room, his rugged features more handsome than ever. His broad shoulders and tall frame gave him a commanding presence. Every time she saw him, she couldn’t help but remember what it had been like to be held in his arms. To be held next to him.
Except it wasn’t just his physical bearing. It was the way she felt when he held her—safe.
Except she knew she was anything but safe around him. And neither was Robbie.
Millie nestled Robbie a little closer.
“There’s an innocence in children when they’re asleep, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” Millie smiled as she brushed her fingers across Robbie’s forehead. “That cherub look erases all the misdeeds they did during the day, and we can start each morning fresh.”
“Do you know anything about his parents?”
Millie’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, I know about them.”
“Were they good?”
“Robbie’s mother was. I can’t say about his father.”
Roarke reached down and touched Robbie’s cheek. “I think he must have been, too. Together, the two of them made a very special little boy.”
Millie swallowed past the lump in her throat. She couldn’t let him talk about Robbie like this. She couldn’t let him talk about Rosie like this. She didn’t want to consider what he and Rosie had done together that gave life to Robbie. “Did you need something, Mr. Livingston?”
He pulled away. “Yes. I wanted to speak with you.”
She lifted her gaze and studied him. His expression turned more serious.
“I’m sure you heard that Lord Strothum has given the staff the afternoon off tomorrow. All except for you and Miss Jane. You, of course must stay to care for the children.”
“Yes, that’s all anyone is talking about. They can’t figure out why.”
“But you think you know?”
“Yes. It has something to do with the reason you’re here.”
“Yes. It won’t be long now and we’ll know who’s behind the attempt to steal Lord Strothum’s papers.”
“When you do, will you be leaving?”
He smiled. “Yes. I’ll be leaving. I’m sure that makes you happy.”
Millie lowered her gaze. How could she tell him that made her very happy? And sad beyond belief.
“I’m telling you this because I want to make sure you don’t leave your room tonight. And that you stay with the children during the day tomorrow.”
Millie felt a stabbing of fear. “Do you think the children will be in danger?”
He shook his head. “No. But we don’t know what’s going to happen, and can’t take the chance that you or one of the children might walk in on a dangerous situation.”
“Of course not. I’ll make sure Jane understands the need for watchfulness, as well.”
“Thank you.” His gaze turned more serious. “When this is over, do you think there’s any chance I might see you? Just to talk? Or perhaps take a walk through the park?”
The smoldering look that belied his innocent words made the air leave her body. She was glad Robbie was in her arms. Had she been able, she was afraid she might rise to her feet and step toward him. She knew if she did, he would wrap his arms around her and hold her. Then he would lower his head and kiss her. And she would welcome his kisses.
She had no willpower when he was near her. She’d spent more hours than she could count telling herself that she was a fool where Roarke was concerned. But nothing she said did any good. She wanted him more than she thought it was possible to want a man. And she no longer held Rosie responsible for giving her body to Roarke Livingston. If given the chance, Millie would do the same. She would give him her body—because he already possessed her heart.
Which was the reason that when he left, she had to make sure she never saw him again.
She cleared her throat. “I don’t think that’s possible, Roarke.”
Millie watched it happen as her simple statement eroded the fringes of his confidence. He visibly struggled for a moment, not knowing whether to leave or pursue his request. Millie held herself still, willing him to do both—beg her to consider a future with him, and leave.
“I care for you, Millie. And I think you care for me.”
Yes. I do. You know I do.
Her breathing stuttered as she summoned all the resolve she could to face his devastating eyes, to face his irresistible allure. “That doesn’t matter. Too much has happened. Too much I can’t forget.”
He paced a few steps, shaking his head in frustration. “I’d like to say I understand, but I don’t. I never have.” Roarke lowered his gaze to where Robbie lay. “If you change your mind…”
Just say it. Just tell him. But she couldn’t. There were no words that would make him understand. The uncomfortable moment hung between them, neither of them able to dispel the other’s discomfort.
At last Roarke expelled a great sigh.
“The boy needs to get back to bed,” he muttered, clearly disappointed after her long silence. “I’ll take him.”
Before she could voice an objection, Roarke scooped Robbie into his arms and headed for the boy’s room.
Millie stood but couldn’t move forward, too stunned by the perfect picture of father and son. It seemed so natural. He seemed so natural, so tender and fatherly. And with one word she could give him a future with his son. With her.
And then they’d both be broken hearted when he left them again.
The unbidden thought nudged her from her trance and she hurried down the hall ahead of him and straightened the covers, then pulled them up over Robbie when Roarke laid him down.
“Remember what I told you, Millie. No matter what you hear tonight, don’t leave the room. Stay here with the children.”
Millie nodded, having to search her mind a moment to make sense of his warning. Oh yes. Something’s happening tonight.
He looked her in the eyes and held her gaze. It seemed as if he was memorizing her features. As if he knew this was the last time he’d see her.
“Goodbye, Millie.” His hand reached out and the backs of his fingers gently brushed her cheek. “Goodbye.”
Then he turned and walked to the door.
Millie waited for him to leave, wanting him to be gone before she cried out for him to come back. Or worse, before she broke down in tears and he’d know how much she’d miss him. How much she regretted letting him go. How much she loved him.
But what choice did she have? How could she live with the man who’d ruined her sister? How could she give herself to a man who’d slept with Rosie, and thought so little of her that he couldn’t even remember her name? How could she trust him enough to think he wouldn’t do the same to her?
Her heart was breaking.
She watched him walk to the door, then leave.
And she knew without a doubt that she could never love another man—because she no longer had a heart to give anyone else.
CHAPTER 1
3
Roarke heard a sound outside Lord Strothum’s study window and steadied his grip on his pistol.
“We need him alive,” Mack whispered in the darkness. “Don’t kill him unless you have to.”
Four of the six Bedford Street investigators were situated in various locations throughout Lord Strothum’s study. The other two were outside the house where they could capture the thief in case he escaped.
The window opened slowly and Roarke made out a man’s outline. Someone had left the window unlocked, but the investigators already knew that. The unlocked window was another clue that something was going to happen tonight. The unlocked window, the partially pulled-back drapes that would allow more moonlight to shine into the room to avoid the use of a light, and the fact that this would be the last night the thieves thought the breech-loading weapon designs would be in the safe.
Tonight was their last chance.
Roarke steadied his breathing as he waited for the intruder to arrive. Whoever he was, he was good. His movements weren’t reckless, but calm and silent, and if Roarke hadn’t known he was there, he wouldn’t have heard him when he opened the window enough to squeeze through. In no time, the intruder was in the room.
Roarke followed the sound of his soft footsteps as he made his way to Strothum’s safe in the wall behind a painting. He removed the painting and began work on the lock on the safe. Which meant the inside man knew Strothum’s combination and had given it to the thief.
Roarke listened closer. He heard the first click of the lock, then a turn in the opposite direction, and a second click, then— Mack had given orders to let the thief open the safe before stopping him, but Roarke heard a sound the same time the thief did. The thief stopped, then turned toward the sound.
Roarke turned at the same time, then stopped short when a gunshot echoed in the room. The thief fell to the floor.
In the split second it took Roarke to realize what had happened, a second gunshot echoed in the dark.
A shooting pain exploded against his shoulder and his gun fell to the floor.
He clutched at the fire burning down his arm and his fingers came away warm and wet.
“Hugh,” Mack called out, taking a count of his men.
“Here.”
“Jack,” he called out.
“Here.”
“Roarke,” he called out.
Roarke opened his mouth to answer but no sound came out.
“Roarke!” Mack called out again.
Roarke tried to form the words to answer again, but couldn’t. Before he could try again welcome darkness consumed him.
. . . . .
Millie and Jane heard the gunshots and ran to check on the children. It was unlikely that the muffled sounds had been loud enough to wake them, but they needed to make sure. When they were satisfied that everything was all right, they returned to the outer room of the nursery and waited.
“Those were gunshots, weren’t they, Millie?” Jane asked.
Millie could hear the fear in her voice. “Yes, but I’m sure everything’s all right. A thief must have tried to enter the house, and they most likely caught him.”
“Did you hear two shots?” Jane asked as she reached for Millie’s hand and held it.
“Yes. I heard two shots.”
“What do you think that means?”
Millie gave Jane’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
Millie sat with Jane on the window seat and listened. Several voices broke through the silence: Mack Wallace’s voice, and Jack’s. Then there was the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. They didn’t travel fast, but their gait seemed slow and labored. As if they carried something heavy—someone heavy.
A sudden weight pressed against her chest. This was the same sound she’d heard when the investigators carried Roarke up the stairs after he’d been attacked in the park.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. Surely he hadn’t been wounded again. He was barely healed from the last time. If the wound was severe, she doubted he was strong enough to survive.
Millie rose and paced the room. She relived the fear she’d felt the last time she’d almost lost him. This couldn’t be happening again. She wasn’t sure she could survive losing him. Not to death. Not to something so final.
She pressed her fist to her aching stomach, then stopped at the knock on the door.
“Miss Millie?” the voice said from beyond it.
She ran to the door. “Is that you, Rogers?”
“Yes, Millie. Open the door.”
Millie turned the lock and opened the door. Rogers stepped inside the room.
There was a frightened expression on his face. He seemed more distressed than Millie had ever seen him.
“Are the children all right?” he asked.
“Yes, they’re fine.”
“Good,” he said with a sigh of relief.
“What’s happened?” she asked. She needed to know, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
“Brace yourself, Millie. Mr. Livingston’s been shot. Mr. Wallace asked for you. He thought you’d want to be there.”
Millie felt the floor shift beneath her. She reached out to steady herself against something. Anything. Thankfully, Rogers was there to hold her up.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “Would you like me to take you to him?”
Millie shook her head. Rogers hated Roarke, yet here he was, being so kind. He was such a good man! “I can make it. Will you stay here with Jane and help her watch the children? We need to make sure they are safe.”
“Of course.” He turned to Jane. “Miss Jane. Why don’t you watch Lord Strothum’s children? I’ll stay with Robbie.”
“Of course,” Jane said, then rushed into the connecting room that led to both Master Henry’s room and Beth’s and Carter’s rooms.
“I’ll lock the door behind you to make sure no one can get in,” Rogers said, then went to the door and turned the lock.
“Is he badly injured?” Millie asked as she rushed to the door.
“I couldn’t say, Millie. He seemed to have lost a lot of blood. Other than that…” Rogers shrugged his shoulders.
Millie raced out of the room and went down the hallway almost at a run. This couldn’t be happening. She wanted him out of her life, but she didn’t want him to lose his life. She wanted to live her life knowing that Roarke was living his. That he was…
She reached the door to the room where he’d been since he’d been wounded before and knocked. She didn’t wait for permission to enter but opened the door and walked into the room.
The scene was the same as before. Roarke’s bloody body lay on the bed while his fellow investigators worked to stop the blood from flowing from his wound.
“Miss Shaw,” Mack Wallace said when he saw her. “You probably shouldn’t be here, but I’m sure Roarke will be glad you are when he wakes.”
“How bad is it?” Millie knelt beside the bed and reached for Roarke’s hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers when their flesh met.
“We’re waiting for the doctor. He’ll have to dig out the bullet.”
Millie took a cloth one of the investigators handed her and wiped the perspiration from Roarke’s forehead.
It wasn’t long before there was a noise in the hall and the doctor entered. He walked into the room and looked down on the bed, and said, “Not this one again. I don’t know how many times you expect me to work on him before my luck or his runs out.”
“If you’ll just remove the bullet from his shoulder,” Mack said, “we’ll take care of the rest.”
The doctor took some instruments from his bag and started to work on Roarke.
Millie didn’t watch. She couldn’t. She had an idea what the doctor had to do to dig a bullet from Roarke’s flesh and didn’t want to watch. Instead, she knelt beside him and held his hand. When his grip tightened around her fingers, she tried to talk him through the pain. She wasn’t sure it he
lped, but there wasn’t anything else she could do.
“Millie,” he whispered on a gasp of pain.
“Yes, Roarke. I’m here.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
“I know. But I had to come.”
He moaned when the doctor made another attempt to remove the bullet.
“Stay?” he said on a gasp.
“Yes, I’ll stay.”
He moaned louder, then breathed a shuddering sigh when the doctor pulled the bullet from his flesh. Then went limp.
. . . . .
The sun hadn’t risen yet when Millie opened her eyes. She blinked away the sleep, then focused on the bed.
Roarke was awake and he was staring at her.
“How do you feel?” she asked, pushing the blanket from around her shoulders.
“Sore, but I’m fine.”
Millie rose, then leaned over him to feel his forehead and his cheek.
“No fever,” he said, confirming her touch. “I’ll be up and on my feet by noon.”
“If you think I’m going to let you stay in bed that long, you’d better rethink your plans,” a low voice said from the doorway. “We’ll have you up by ten.”
Millie turned to see Mack and Hugh and Jack enter the room. They wore broad smiles.
“Good morning, boss,” Roarke said.
“You look a mite better than you did last night when we carried you up here,” Jack said.
Roarke looked at Millie. “Don’t believe them. I walked up the stairs on my own.”
“Ha!” Hugh said on a laugh. “You stumbled up the stairs is more like it. And not on your own. It took four of us to make sure you didn’t topple back down to the bottom.”
“I can’t speak for Mack,” Hugh said, “but the rest of us are getting tired of you playing hero. Even the doctor accused us of using you as a shield.”
“He even hinted that you were obviously the bravest one of Mack’s investigators,” Jack said. “I told him that the real reason was that the rest of us know not to get in the way of flying bullets.”
“And I told him obviously some irate father wants you dead,” Hugh teased. “That you probably broke some young female’s heart.”
Roarke laughed, and so did his fellow investigators. But Millie didn’t find anything humorous in the possibility that someone might want Roarke dead. Something bothered her about the attack in the park that she couldn’t put her finger on. Something that didn’t make sense. Suddenly she knew what it was.